3 Broken Hearts
by featheredschist
Summary: In a strange twist of fate, Harry ends up the adopted son of two of Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Some folks don't like this, wanting the Boy Who Lived to remain the ignorant bastion of light they need him to be. Harry's adoptive fathers want him to have all they never did. AU - Dark fic! Dumbles bashing; Abuse (all kinds, incl CHILD), Trauma, PTSD, Family, Violence, Drama, SLASH
1. Chapter 1

Three Broken Hearts Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Wow, welcome to a new story. This is a crossover – Avengers, and Harry Potter. VERY AU. And it's going to be darker than most, hence the explicit rating. Within these digital pages will be graphic violence, child abuse, mentions of past child abuse, trauma, PTSD, and I'm not sure what else, but the tags will change as they come to me. PS – I tend to write long flashback scenes, so you have warning for that.

They were in England, helping a recovery effort as an assist to Captain Britain. He rarely called for help from any of the 'spandex set' as Tony snarkily called the superhero set. But this time, the request had been made less for heroes, and more for scientific help.

Flashback, 48 hours:

"Mr Stark, call coming in from SHIELD, and it is not Director Fury," JARVIS intoned suddenly, simultaneously dropping the volume on Tony's music. Tony had stopped his experiment, setting a pair of pliers down on the worktable. "Oh? Interesting. Put it through, JARVIS," Tony spun his wheeled task chair from the table to face a piece of blank, white wall. His curiosity was sufficiently piqued to call for all of his attention. Usually Coulson called the Team together. Rarely did Agent Hill or Director Fury bother. If SHIELD called, something BIG was going on.

The wall darkened as a translucent screen flickered into being. Tony made a mental note to check the projectors later. The newly formed screen brightened as JARVIS made the connections to bridge the video call from SHIELD. The image of a sterile lab, and white-coated scientists appeared, the foreground dominated by a head full of messy, salt and pepper curls that Tony knew well. "Bruce?", he asked softly, knowing that if his partner had lost immediate interest in the call, startling him wouldn't help. It'd likely summon the Hulk. The head jerked a little anyway, making Tony wince. "I..." he started.

"No, my fault. New readings came in as I waited for JARVIS to connect. You know how easily distracted I get," came the subdued reply. Bruce was definitely deep in 'science mode', as even though he'd lifted his head to talk to Tony, his eyes were still on whatever information had come in.

"What do you need, Big Green?", Tony queried, reverting to 'public mode' as this was an open call. That helped Bruce focus, "Yes. A call came in from Brian Braddock earlier. There was a rather large explosion in a suburb of London last night." Tony's eyes widened, but he waited. If they'd been needed, they'd have been called already.

"At first, it was assumed that it was a gas main, or possibly terrorists. Brian thinks it's Something Else," and the capitals were obvious. Tony snorted, it meant magic, he hated magic. "He's been forced to go outside to ask for help. Thus the call to me this morning."

Tony remembered that call. They'd only been fiddling with yet another new setting on some tracking gear for the Hulk when JARVIS just abruptly patched that call through. Tony'd threatened dismantling if JARVIS was that high-handed again. A few brief exchanges and something he'd overheard about radiation and Bruce disconnected the call. He'd turned to Tony to tell him that SHIELD was sending a Quinjet to the tower to collect him. He had been requested to assist in getting through a pile of anomalous readings. They shared a brief kiss and fondle before Bruce had left the lab to clean up and change.

"And what did you find?", Tony asked, concerned and curious. If it was radiation with a normal answer, even terrorists, Bruce wouldn't have called him, except to say he was going to England.

"The readings are just that, anomalous. Bunny suits on the ground have been sending us new reports every 4 hours and the rapid change...no, that's not right."

Tony was completely intrigued and starting to get a feeling, "What, Bruce?" he interrupted, practically demanding clarification.

"It's complete deterioration, Tony. The levels of Beta radiation were off the scale when they first noticed, then exponentially sharper drop offs since then. It's still there in sufficient quantities to warrant full protocols. Brian wants us to come and see for ourselves," Bruce finished.

Tony had half listened to this last part. "Ok, I'll get an aide to pack you a bag," he started to say, completely misunderstanding.

"You didn't hear me, did you, Tin Man?", Bruce practically growled, voice deep and rough, as if Someone was about to appear. Though when Tony looked, his eyes were still soft, and very much brown, if worried by the information he'd been reading, "WE are going," he emphasized, "Go get 2 bags packed, plus the new haz mat additions for the IM suit."  
"Oh," Tony said, dumbstruck, then he cracked a huge smile, "Okay, I can handle that. Are we taking an SI jet, or?"

"Quinjet. More equipment available," they shared a frown at that, having to stay public for so long. It was easy and hard at the same time.

"You've got an hour. I hope that's enough time?", Bruce said, beginning to wrap the call.

"Aside from my armor, what else do we need?", Tony asked, preparing to go back to work, or at least clean up his workshop mess.

"Bring the Hulk's toy box, would you? And remember my iPod this time!", Bruce grinned and they disconnected the call. Tony spun back to the table, picking up the pliers, "JARVIS, send a couple robots to get the toy box, and another to find our suitcases. Not the matched sets either," he commanded his AI.

"Yes Mr. Stark. Will there be anything else?", JARVIS replied. Outside the lab and unseen by anyone, at least three robot functionaries propelled themselves on their assigned tasks.

"Yes, set up the haz mat gear for my armor. And you're off the list for dismantling. Good job," Tony replied, placing the pliers in the tool box, and snapping the lid shut.

"Thank you sir," JARVIS says, knowing that was all the apology he would receive on the incident. Tony left the lab, heading upstairs to their bedroom to pack a few days' worth of clothes, and some spares for Bruce, before calling Pepper and giving her a head's up.

End Flashback

The jet had landed them in England, and they'd taken an armored SUV to the site in Surrey. Both looked over new readings that had been handed to them just after landing.

"Dropped off another 40%, just like the last reading. Steady decrease at least," Bruce said, scanning the tablet he held.

"Mhm," Tony agreed. They were waiting while corpsmen assembled another decontamination tent. Except this one was larger, roughly 20 by 30 feet. It was strictly for Iron Man, the Hulk, and their gear alone. With the protocols in place for handling radiation exposure, they moved from the SUV to the end of the tent that was their de-facto lab and started working.

A few hours later, and another radiation reading.

"All right, let's suit up," Tony said. He turned from the bank of computers and reached for a thick, metal briefcase. Bruce steps up beside him and opens his own case.

"Hulk Shorts?", he asked his partner, lifting a pair of silky, black board shorts from the opened case.

"Nothing else worked, we tried! Big Green needed something easy," Tony responded, pulling an identical, but larger piece of fabric from his own case. Both pieces faintly sparkled from some bit of metallic thread that made of part of the weave. They moved into a separate curtained area, set aside for changing in and out of 'uniform'.

"Oh sure, he's just being stubborn," Bruce said, rolling his eyes and stepping out of his shoes. He unfastened his belt, suddenly gaining Tony's undivided attention. Tony's eyes became half-lidded with desire, and his tongue quickly darted out to moisten his lips. Bruce's hands stilled on his waistband.

"Later lover, I promise," Bruce whispered hotly, "Business before pleasure." Tony reluctantly and slowly nodded, tearing his gaze off his lover's body. He turned away slightly, eyes on the ground, to hopefully control his reactions. Or at least, put a damper on them.

They finish changing in silence, but made time before stepping back beyond the curtain for tongue dueling that left them a little breathless. With soft, promising smiles, they went to work, stepping out of the changing area. Tony wore a full body suit of the black material, looking remarkably like a starry night sky, while Bruce just had the stretchy shorts. Being a gamma beast had some benefits, though he usually ignored most of the effects.

Tony reached for a familiar red and gold flat pack briefcase, and simply pressed a thumb to a small indented circle near the simple, detachable handle. Locks clicked, motors began to whir, and the briefcase unfolded for Tony to begin stepping into the armor that made him Iron Man.

Meanwhile, Bruce went back to the computer for one final look. Satisfied, he grabbed a pocket dosimeter that he clipped to a bungee cord for himself. "JARVIS knows to monitor the levels of Beta, down to the millirad?", Bruce queried as he walked back to Tony.

"Yes, now help me with the balaclava. Damn thing scrunches on my neck!", Tony huffed, holding out the final piece before the armor sealed itself up. Bruce chuckled, and took the offensive piece from Tony and waited for him to take a knee. The armor made his lover quite a bit taller than Bruce without shoes in preparation to "Hulking out". Settling the offending fabric in place, Bruce took a risk and staring hard into Tony's eyes, kissed him full on the lips.

A few seconds later, they heard voices and footsteps getting closer to the main entrance. With a grumble not entirely his own, Bruce reluctantly backed away from Tony and went to a here-to-fore ignored black crate settled off to the side, like a squat, legless crab. Tony smirked, pulling the balaclava's face covering over his now over-sensitive lips and has the suit's face shield slide down and lock into place. The eyes power up as three people enter the tent while Bruce opens the crate to display an organized carrier of oversized gear. He's handling a few bits, having slung the bungee cord across his shoulder and chest to free his hands for the work of prepping the Hulk's equipment.

"Ah good to see you nearly ready, my friends," said one of the newcomers, his accent thick, but obviously telling of a cultured background. Tony turns, a little slow and cumbersome at first as the suit whirs to life, to face the newcomers. Two are scientists, white lab coats, black slacks, loafers and glasses on otherwise nondescript personalities. The other, stands out like Stars and Stripes back home. Covered neck to feet in an armored body suit much like Captain America's, where they diverged was the flag design. This gent's screamed "Rule Britannia" to anyone with sight.

"So you are Captain Britain?", Tony queried, voice clipped and tight. Bruce heard the tone of voice and turned to see that Tony was faced off against the two nerds and a hero. He shrugged. Stark would be fine, otherwise he'd call for back up. He went back to testing the equipment he'd need in the field.

"Yes, Brian Braddock, at your service. These fellows are Doctors Sam Coulter and George Medi and are in charge of nuclear oncology at Kingston Hospital," the overly large and heavily muscled male waved at the two lab coated gentlemen trailing after him. "If you have a moment, I'd like to speak with you about this case?", he asked Tony directly.

"We might have something to spare, sure," Tony thought out loud, his voice synthesized by the armor. One of the doctors moved forward, "Mr. Stark, it's critical we figure out what exactly is going on here. This rate of decay could well mean a new element!" Excited scientist was a good expression. It usually made Tony and Bruce very happy, but something about this trip, well, they'd find out.

"Is that Dr. Banner?", the other man asked, curiously, turning to see the rest of the tent. Bruce turned from his equipment, hearing his name. He waved, but still made no comment or effort to join the conversation. Most of the time, other people treated him as a curiosity, or avoided him all together. Braddock looked at what Bruce was doing and wanted to ask questions. None of the equipment he was working with seemed to fit the situation, but what did he know of advanced technology such as Stark made? Instead he broached his own ideas. "Gentlemen, there is another possibility at work here," he began.

This got Bruce's attention, or seemed to. He came over to the small gathering and handed Braddock a radio and earwig. "Oh? We ought to know about that now. Take these, you'll be able to communicate with Iron Man while we're in the field," he said as he passed the pieces over. He had to help Braddock fit the earwig properly into one of his ear canals, then tune both to one of the frequencies Iron Man would use that day.

"Yes, I believe magic could be involved," Braddock ventured. He knew men of science often scoffed at the idea, but these two were different. Or so he'd been told. Various members of the Avengers worked magic, giving them some knowledge that he hoped would help today.

The English doctors began to protest, prompting Tony to raise a gauntleted hand to halt their tirade. "We've heard stranger things. Open your minds to new possibilities or get out," was all he said. The scientists' mouths snapped shut and they shared a look between themselves. Medi nodded first, then, "We will hear what Captain Britain has to say."

Tony smiled inside the suit but outwardly said, "We're wasting time. My colleague needs to change before we head out." The red, articulated gauntlet formed a fist, index finger pointing towards the tent flap.

Bruce spoke up, before the trio left, "Captain, finish explaining your theory to Iron Man via radio. We'll give it due consideration."

Braddock nodded, "And yourself?"

Bruce smiled a small, half smile, "I'll be otherwise occupied."

After Braddock left with the doctors, Bruce called upon the Hulk, allowing the transformation to ripple throughout his stocky form. Tony watched avidly. The change overtaking his lover's body never ceased to amaze him. It had taken a long time for Bruce to ever begin to accept that the Hulk wasn't a monster. It helped that Tony had never seen either of them that way. He shook his head, dispelling the memories of their early days.

With the Hulk now fully present, they could get to work.

"Hey Jolly Green, ready to go?", Iron Man asked his partner, hopeful note threading his voice. Hulk swung around and laid eyes on the red and gold armor.

"Gear first, then go," Hulk replied, suiting actions to words and going to the box to gather up several bits. One piece got hooked over his head, a soft pad settled over his right ear. A black piece of hard plastic with two long, velcro straps goes around his upper arm, fastened snug. A toggle switch on it, small in comparison to Hulk's great size, is thrown, and a small, green light blinks on. Now he can hear Iron Man's voice no matter how far apart they might get, and answer back, though his voice easily carried.

He reaches back into the container and grabs a video recorder. In his hands, it looks like a normal digital camera. In Banner's, it resembles a movie camera in size. The controls on this are simple push buttons, everything else was handled remotely. This gets clipped to the bungee slung across his shoulders, alongside the dosimeter Banner had snapped on earlier.

Something resembling a cross between a hula hoop and a Frisbee hung off the door of the crate, and Hulk grabbed that object next. As his hands touched this, light flared on all across the shallow convex disk. Hulk heard the Iron Man armor clanking around and left the equipment container to head out on their objective.

"We go now," Hulk firmly told Iron Man, tossing the disk to the ground. It didn't hit, instead it began to hover once released and rested about 8" off the paved road they'd set up on. Hulk stepped on it, and as expected, it sank about 2" lower, taking his bulk. The repulsor disk hesitated, then compensated, regaining an inch before following Iron Man out of the tent and into the air, pulled along by a weird combination of magnetics and radiation tied between the suit and the disk.

They followed the trail of Beta radiation to a hot spot determined to be the source. A blasted area centered on a suburban street in Surrey. A bent and twisted sign declared it either Privet Drive, or Wisteria Walk.

"Map calls this 'Little Whinging'. Makes me wonder what they have to 'whinge' about," Iron Man quipped when they landed. Hulk grunted a gravelly laugh, hopping off the disk when it got within 5 feet of the ground. He'd chosen a wasted yard to land in, leaving a small impact crater in the dirt and torn grass.

"Here, set the camera on the tripod, we'll let it go full auto on the disk. Looks like we'll be shifting through wreckage here," Iron Man told his large, green partner. He extracted a folded up, metal tripod from a storage pod on the right leg of the armor. With a snap of his gauntleted hand, the tripod unfolds and the Hulk approaches with the camera to attach it. Hulk pressed the record button and aims it at what they assume to be ground zero.

AN: This is not a period piece (not happening in the 80s). It is occurring in an indeterminate time period, and rather modern, for a mention of an iPod (which that trademark belongs to Apple, Inc). The tech here is a mix of Banner and Stark, which becomes important as time goes by. Radiation stuff is completely made up, again.


	2. Chapter 2

3 Broken Hearts Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: Do not own Avengers, Marvel, Harry Potter or other recognizable entities found herein. I just own the story, and the original characters. TRIGGER WARNINGS: Major character death, PTSD notes, graphic signs of abuse, grief, angst. This carries over into the next chapter as well.

* * *

They stood in the front yard of the remains of a small, two story house. It looked as though a bomb had gone off in the interior of the squat little building. The remains of rose bushes are scattered across the front lawn.

"Hulk shift debris. Tin Man scan for life?", Hulk said, pointing at the pile of wood and plaster.

"Yeah sure, Big Guy. JARVIS, fire up the IR meter, would ya? And get me a Beta scan of the surroundings?", Iron Man agreed, then ordered the AI who piggy backed with the armor everywhere.

"Infra-red scanners coming online now, sir. Beta scan shows a new spike, but still consistent with earlier readings. I believe the spike may indicate the source of the disturbance. And Captain Britain is calling for an update," JARVIS rattled off. In the field, everyone was all business.

"Already? Jeez, not on the ground 10 minutes and Captain Jack's yanking our chain," Iron Man grumbled.

"Tin Man, Flag Captain had other theory," Hulk reminded him, as he shifted a meter wide piece of wall.

"Oh that. Fine. JARVIS, patch him through," Iron Man sighed, waiting on the uplink.

"Iron Man? Can you hear me?", crackled the accented voice of Braddock.

"Yes, I copy. Go ahead Captain Britain," Iron Man responded, in formal tones.

"That theory, Iron Man. I, and a few others, believe it to be..." Captain Britain was almost immediately interrupted.

"Hold a moment, Cap. Hulk's found something," Iron Man cut across the other man, his eyes on the digital readout before him.

Hulk had been quietly and carefully shifting debris, but stopped suddenly, standing upright, catching Tony's attention.

"Holding, Iron Man," was Braddock's reply. Switching back to the external speakers, Tony spoke with Hulk.

"What is it, Hulk?" he asked, approaching the behemoth's position. Hulk had moved into the house proper and stood in what might have been an entryway.

"Small body," Hulk answered, sad. His face had closed down, eyebrows tight, jaw line tense.

'Ah, damn. Not good,' Tony thought to himself. "Braddock, send a recovery team to this location, now. We've got victims," Tony told the other hero, his tone flat and emotionless. Neither of them liked dealing with recoveries when it involved kids. There'd be a long period of aftercare for this one, especially for the softie that was the Hulk, and Bruce.

"They are on their way, Stark. What happened?", Braddock demanded.

"Not now, Cap. I need to help. Tell JARVIS this theory and he'll update me in a little bit. Iron Man out," and Tony disconnected the radio call. He turned his attention back to the tableau.

"All right Hulk. A recovery team is on the way. Do you think there's enough room in here for me to help?", he spoke softly, the external speakers barely broadcasting the sound.

Hulk considered, his eyes that odd swirling brown/green that told Tony Bruce was near the surface and in communication with Hulk.

"Yes, come," Hulk replied. They skirted the small, unmoving body that Hulk had found. Tony tried to avoid looking at it, following directly in the Hulk's steps. But it was hard. While he couldn't determine the exact age, he knew it was a boy, under 10 and obviously well cared for, if the state of his frame was any indication. The body rested against of a couch or divan in what had been a sitting room.

It was a good thing, if unfortunate, in the circumstances that the entire top floor was missing, as both the Iron Man armor, and Hulk would not have fit in the small house under regular terms. They moved down the hall, passed the twisted staircase and into the remains of the kitchen. Hulk groaned piteously, having spotted another body. He sank down on his haunches, eyes closed, attempting to will away these new images. In his head, Bruce was attempting damage control for later. Both Tony and Bruce hoped it was successful.

Tony sighed from within his suit. This was bad.

"Okay Hulk. If you want, go back outside and wait for the recovery team. I can continue in here," he told his partner, laying a metal covered hand on the large, green shoulder.

"Hulk stay. Important to finish. Iron Man not do alone," Hulk rumbled, turning his upper body back to look at his metallic friend.

"If you're sure. I know how hard this is for both of you," Tony said. He was glad Hulk would stay, but worried for the eventual toll. He watched the Hulk's eyes carefully, always fascinated by the swirling mint chocolate when they combined their mental forces together. One eye shifted completely green, leaving the other completely brown as the Hulk stared into Iron Man's visual receptors and firmly nodded.

"Sir?" JARVIS carefully broke into the silence.

"Go ahead, J-man," Tony informed him. He'd gone looking for any kind of linens that might have survived the explosion to cover the two still forms. Hulk groaned every time he caught a look at them, shifting through the wreckage.

"The infrared scan has picked up one life form, about twenty feet from your left, and ten down. It's very weak, sir," JARVIS told him.

"Huh, basement area, you think?", Tony wondered out loud.

"Probability of 98%, sir," JARVIS responded, knowing the question was largely rhetorical.

"Big Guy? JARVIS found something with his IR scan. Come give me a hand," Tony called the huge, green man over from sorting a pile of rubble that might have been the upstairs floor. Hulk shuffled back into the kitchen, curious.

"Okay J-man, where would the likely entry be?", Tony asked his AI. JARVIS performed a scan, and compared it to records he'd already downloaded from the municipal code inspector. This download was a scan of a blueprint to the house.

"It appears to be a basement or cold storage, sir. The entrance is actually outside, in the backyard about 5 feet from what was the back door," came the answer.

"Halloo the property! Iron Man?", came a surprising new, unwanted voice from the front of the blasted house.

"The recovery team!", Tony exclaimed, "Dammit, can't be two places at once. Hulk, can you handle the basement? I'll work with the team," Tony hoped he wasn't about to create a larger problem for himself.

"Hulk do. JARVIS help Hulk find warm thing. Tin Man deal with people," Hulk told him with rather abrupt finality. Tony sighed, now hoping this was nearly over. He felt that Hulk would need a "rage moment" to truly recalibrate from this. They'd all need a lot of TLC after this.

"JARVIS, did Stripes ever tell you his theory?", Tony wondered, as Hulk moved back into the yard, crushing the remains of crockery under foot as he did so.

"Yes sir. It boils down to one word, and it's your least favorite," JARVIS explained, hesitating.

"Oh?", the Iron Man suit appeared at the front of the house in time to view the extraction of the young boy's body.

"Yes sir. Magic," JARVIS intoned, waiting for the expected backlash.

"Get Braddock on the line while I talk to these fine people, J," Tony growled. Magic. Unexplained phenomena. Undiscovered science. Horse hockey! Tony was getting angry.

"Gentlemen," he purred, "Preliminary ideas here?"

One of the clean-suited men stood from the evidence gathering. "Sir, this house is registered to a Vernon Dursley. We think that was his son, Dudley, age 7. Primary school records indicate the presence of," the man got no further, as Tony's internal communications were immediately shuffled and a deep growl overwhelmed the speakers. The extraction team felt the deep bass rumble without any assistance and they all froze, fearful.

"TONY! Need you, NOW!", snarled the Hulk.

"Oh crap. On my way, Big Green, hang on," Tony replied.

The recovery team was not expecting Iron Man to leave the room, but that's what he did. The boot repulsors fired, crisping even more of the carpet.

"Folks, I'm sorry, my partner requires my assistance. Finish your work, and report back to the recovery center," Tony flung out as quickly as he could, while getting the armor moving towards the Hulk's location.

"JAR...VIS," Tony enunciated the syllables, stressing a need for information he clearly did not have.

"Sir, I took the liberty of talking to Captain Britain. He says there was a magical child here, not the one that died. The Hulk has found that child, barely alive, and sorely abused. I believe its testing his control," JARVIS explained.

Tony began cursing, loud and long, and borrowing from several languages he'd started learning with Bruce and Natasha Romanov. "Find us somewhere safe to go JARVIS. Tell Braddock to get our gear packed down. Fuck! Call SHIELD, tell Coulson what's going on, and that we're going to ground. Dammit! Don't need this, don't need this!" Tony got to the entrance Hulk had made to reach the basement. It was the original, only wider, with the introduction of a large, green presence.

"Hulk? I'm coming down," Tony maneuvered into the short, cramped tunnel, wishing he dared get out of the suit.

"Stay Tin Man. We come out," Hulk growled. Tony froze for a second, then immediately backed up. As angry as he sounded, Hulk was still decently calm, meaning Bruce was still helping.  
"Sir," JARVIS was back, "Agent Coulson says there's a medical facility."

"No, somewhere with no one else, just the 3 of us, and medical equipment," Tony shot back. He'd forgotten about the external feed.

"Avengers, Tin Man," Hulk snapped.

"You sure?", Hulk grunted an affirmative. The team's support would be ideal. "Okay JARVIS, the team can join us. Braddock too, if this kid's magical. Tell Coulson he's the only SHIELD rep allowed. Gah, need to call Pepper later, too." Tony's thoughts were speeding up, trying to compensate and redirect with this new 'wrinkle'.

Tony stood in the backyard and waited for the Hulk to come out of the hole in the ground. He didn't have long to wait. Hulk had maneuvered sideways to fit down the narrow tunnel, but the way back was blocked by the small body he was carrying. Some kind of soft whimper came from a bundle of ragged towels and clothes Hulk clasped gently in one hand that he shielded with his mass as he clawed a wider path for himself with the other hand. As the pair got closer, Tony detected repeated "No, stop, don't hurt me" coming from the ragged bundle, and his heart clenched.

"Oh fuck," Tony whispered. He looked at the big green version of his lover, and made a decision. "JARVIS, retract the suit."

"Inadvisable, sir," was the immediate reply.

"Stock our hideaway with iodine pills, JARVIS, but retract. The. SUIT," Tony growled firmly.

And Tony's black clad form emerged from the armor seconds later. "Give him here, Big Guy. Go get the disk so we can get into the first aid kit there, and the video camera. Someone's going to pay for this." Tony's solemn promise had the Hulk passing over the limp bundle, then leaping the wreck for the front yard and whipping back with the repulsor disk in short order. The large green humanoid was able to reorient the camera on Tony and the bundled child, then hand over the large kit kept strapped inside.

Tony looked over at him briefly, "Do you think you can let Bruce out to help me Big Guy? I can do field medicine, but there is probably stuff here that's beyond me."

Hulk jerked his head once in agreement and closed his eyes, willing the change. The reverse change resembled a melting and deflating wax sculpture that faded from green to tanned human skin. Tony immediately grabbed Bruce's hand, grounding him from the change.

No matter what level of co-consciousness they shared, the transformation was disorienting for a few seconds, or longer, based on what was happening. Bruce's green flecked, brown eyes flickered open soon after his facial features settled into the softer, less broad planes of the physicist. He gently squeezed Tony's hand, and they let go to attend to the needs of the child before them.

* * *

AN – Okay, I claim the Dursleys as major characters, they do appear in all the books/movies, so yeah. Sorry if that freaked out folks.


	3. Chapter 3

3 Broken Hearts, Chapter 3 Graphic Warning – **CLEAR** depictions of the results of child abuse. Do not read if you are easily triggered. This story will have a lot of valleys before the peaks. Usual disclaimer applies, do not own, please don't sue.

* * *

Tony gathered up the loose bits of electronics shed in the Hulk's haste to transform. He dumped everything into a padded bag in the repulsor disk to sort later. Bruce washed his hands as best he could, using a sterilizing solution bottled in the first aid kit, then handed the remainder over to Tony. He then plucked out 2 pairs of nitrile gloves and gave one set to Tony.

Bruce's hands shook a little as he reached to unwrap the top layer of towels, Tony there to catch and discard them as they came away. Bruce had to stop and clench his fingers until the knuckles whitened for a minute, holding back his rising anger. There was a faint strain of green edging around the bloodless knuckles. Tony briefly touched a few fingers, gently, reminding him he was not alone.

Finding balance, Bruce moved forward, taking hold of the top layer and peeling it back carefully. He slowly exposed the shrunken and shivering form of a small, black haired child. As Bruce uncovered the child's face, bruises, cuts and scrapes were made visible, prompting a low growl from the doctor that was not entirely his own. It was a deep vibratto, making Tony and the child flinch at the sound. Hulk was entirely too close to the surface.

"Bruce, Hulk," Tony whispered, soothingly, "Please, I know this hurts. Let's stabilize him, and get out of here. You have my complete support. Tell me what you need." He hoped for the best. Bruce's background as a survivor made this one very hard to bear witness to.

"Right," Bruce breathed. Then breathed again, relaxing into the "now" of triaging this little boy.

"I need his face cleaned up as I figure out if there's broken bones," Bruce said, his voice low and gruff, but devoid of inflection and too much influence of the Hulk.  
"All right," Tony prepped a cloth, wetting it with water and carefully following Bruce's fingers as they gently probed the boy's face, checking for fractures. The boy was becoming aware enough to begin squirming and moaning.

"Shh, child. You're all right," Bruce murmured repetitively. He found nothing broken in the boy's face, and moved on. Taking more water, he rinsed off his gloves then unwrapped the rest of the boy's body.

A member of the recovery team came to find them. "Iron Man? We've recovered the bodies. Do you need us any further?", the man asked. He took in the scene before him, but couldn't see what the half naked man was doing, crouched on the ground.

The child cried out when Bruce found a broken arm, startling the newcomer.

"Ah, I think there's a family member unaccounted for. The uncle? Check the records to be sure. Then you're done," Tony crisply informed the man, wanting him gone, wanting to shelter Bruce and this boy from the pain and humiliation they'd dealt with, were still dealing with. The inspector nodded, not liking the idea of leaving the survivor, but orders had been orders. The heroes were in command. He would report the survivor though, and hope that triggered follow-ups on a matter that had clearly slipped through some cracks, somewhere. The pair of heroes refocused on their work, ignoring the inspector.

Bruce worked to temporarily stabilize the broken arm, ignoring most of his surroundings. Tony handed him supplies as they were requested. He moved on to inspect the boy's torso and legs.

"He's thin. I'd have to say, probably malnourished. The bruising is extensive. Compound fractures to the ulna and radius bones of the left forearm, sprains to the first 3 fingers of the same hand." Bruce voiced a litany of problems, emotionlessly. He did this solely for the video camera that pointed at them. A record was nearly as important as the victim at this point, if they wanted to bring the abuse to an end, if the Uncle was ever found.

"His ribs might be cracked in a few places," he said once, after brushing over spots that made the boy flinch hard and cry out. Tony cut away the oversized shirt after this, exposing the boy's chest so they could inspect it better and wrap it. Each rib stood out clearly, and both men could see the ones that were misaligned. Bruce took care to snugly wrap the boy's entire chest, encasing it in strong bandaging. The child whined a bit, trying to breathe deeply, but Bruce hushed him quietly. Overall the boy looked like a Holocaust victim.

"Bruce, are those burn marks on his right arm?", Tony asked, indicating some reddened, creased skin.

"They appear consistent with burns. Not sure what type though. Check with JARVIS, see where we're at?", Bruce needed Tony away for this next part. The boy was starting to interact, and he needed to ask some hard questions. Tony looked at his partner and lover. He saw the anger, the hurt, and loss deep in Bruce's eyes, but also saw the need he had to protect Tony from the horror of that particular moment. He reached out and touched the back of a gloved hand to Bruce's face.

"Okay. I'll do that. Call me if you need me," and he got up and moved back to his armor, stripping the nitrile gloves off as he went.

"Okay young man. I know you can understand me. I am very sorry for all of this, but know that it's all over now," Bruce told the boy. The child shivered, mostly from fear. He tried curling in on himself, attempting to make himself less of a target in case things changed. He was trying not to hope.

"No, please, m'uncle," the boy whimpered.

"Is not here, and cannot hurt you anymore," Bruce insisted. "Can you stand up for me? Put your right hand on my shoulder to hold yourself up. I'll brace you." The boy hesitated, then turned his face to peer side long up at Bruce. The shy, dim green orb was filled with pain so instantly recognizable that Bruce was hard pressed not to crush the boy in a hug and make promises he wasn't sure he could or should make. He felt the Hulk growling in the back of his mind. 'I know Big Guy. We'll fix it, I swear it.'

The child determined some level of earnest honesty in Bruce's hazel eyes, because the skinny, bruised arm came up and the thin fingers clamped onto his shoulder as though searching for a life line. Trembling like a willow in a high wind, the young boy gathered his battered strength and stood in front of Bruce.

"Good!", Bruce quietly crowed. The child's legs appeared okay, but now, the hardest part. "I have to ask you a really tough question, but I need an answer, okay?" Bruce maintained eye contact.

"Okay", the boy's voice was scratchy. He'd been crying a lot recently. Bruce nodded, holding the boy loosely by the waist and checking for the tiny movements that would give away the answer he was afraid of.

"Did anyone ever touch you? More than hitting, I mean? Here?" And he flexed his hands oh so carefully, wishing he didn't have to. The boy's eyes widened, in faint understanding. But there was no flinch, no drawing away. And Bruce smiled. They'd have to confirm it officially, but this was enough for him.

The boy gave a tremulous smile in return, thinking this was what the man wanted. There had been so much yelling, and odd growling sounds that had made him afraid for awhile after his uncle had left him alone. The explosion had confused him, disoriented him, but he was glad his uncle had stopped hurting him.

"I'm Harry. Do you know where Aunt Petunia is?", he chanced to ask. His voice broke on the last word though, and he began coughing.

"Here now, let's get something to drink, all right?", Bruce gathered the small boy into his arms, and moved to the floating, blue white disk that held all their supplies. He found a bottle of drinking water and after cracking it open, handed it to the boy. Harry's eyes were round with barely suppressed curiosity about the weird floating thing.

"Well Harry, my name's Bruce, and that over there is Tony. We're not sure about your aunt right now, but we'll find her or figure out what happened to her, okay?", Bruce introduced them to the boy. Tony looked over upon hearing his name and gave a little wave before giving his attention back to the report he was getting from his AI via radio.

Harry nodded while drinking from the water bottle. The water was warm, but he didn't care. It soothed his sore throat. He didn't know these strangers, but they had helped him. Maybe things would be better now. His teacher had tried to believe him this year, but Vernon had told some story about how he was getting into fights. How could he when he was never seen with any of the kids? Dudley and his friends chased them all away, and then chased him into hiding, or beat him. He hoped things would be better. He was tired of being alone, being beaten for imagined slights.

But now he wondered, why where these men here, in Aunt Petunia's backyard, wearing such weird clothes? The man that held him so gently, so safely, was only wearing pants! Not even socks and shoes like Harry had to wear to school! He stole a glance at the other man. His outfit appeared to be a dancer's unitard, or at least, what he thought he'd seen once, on a few of the girls at school. He didn't know men and boys wore them as well. And what was that shiny red and gold case the other man, Tony, was fussing with? He squirmed a little against Bruce's shoulder, but Bruce only adjusted his grip to hold him better. Harry wasn't going anywhere right then. He thought about it, then decided he liked that idea.

While he covertly looked at each of them, he finished off the water and clutched the empty bottle. The first thing he'd ever been allowed to keep longer than two minutes without hearing Dudley screaming for it. He rested his head against Bruce's broad, warm shoulder and closed his eyes. He felt safe, for the first time, in a very long time. He never glanced around the yard, not caring about anything past this simple moment in time, where he was so warm, and felt safe for the first time he could ever recall.

Bruce waited until the small body tangled in his arms relaxed into sleep. "Tony? He's asleep. Now's a good time to get gone," he whispered, urgently.

"Sure. J found us a place. Up the coast into Scotland, some island. We need to head back to the jet," Tony stood and moved back to the first aid kit to put it back in the disk. He gathered the medical waste they'd created into a disposal bag and tied it off. That too went into the disk.

"You know the disk handles better under Himself," Tony reminded Bruce. Who turned to the disk and sighed.

"Yeah, it does. Suit up, I'll put the boy in the disk and change," Bruce agreed.

"I can hold him, the lack of warmth might wake him," Tony offered, reaching out. Bruce nodded and shifted the limp body from his hip to Tony's waiting arms. The boy whimpered, but quieted almost immediately once Tony had a firm grip on him. Once the transfer was done, Bruce called upon the change, becoming the Hulk once more. He would have to try not not to crash out later. Multiple transformations were hard on his body, generating a fugue he often had to fight if there was more to do post-battle.

"Boy okay?", Hulk wanted confirmation.

"I think he will be, my friend. I think he will be," Tony said. The Hulk nodded, and got on the disk. Tony passed back the child, who was easily swallowed by the huge, green hands. Hulk squatted on the disk, settling himself and bringing the boy close to his chest.

Tony turned off the camera and disconnected it from the tripod. He put the camera back on the disk and collapsed the tripod to store it back on the armor. He then reassembled the armor around himself. The trio quickly left the scene of destruction, heading back to the heroes' base.

No one heard a gun shot like pop that cracked across the street.

* * *

AN: You'll note they didn't save anything for forensics. This is partly my fault, and partly story – they didn't think about it in the stressful conditions they were under.


	4. Chapter 4

Three Broken Hearts Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Thanks for sticking with me this far. Here's a bit of the 'other side of the story'. Still doing the sandbox thing! Do not own, please don't sue!

* * *

Severus Snape apparated near the gates of Hogwarts, contemplating what he'd just witnessed. He had no idea how to explain to Dumbledore about the green troll who's assisted the oddly dressed human in kidnapping the Boy-Who-Lived. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off the coming stress headache. Nothing had gone right in his life since that Halloween night. He was glad the Dark Lord was gone, truth be told. That decision was the worst he'd ever made in his life, followed by the one where he threw himself on Dumbledore's "tender" mercies.

He strode up the velvety, grass covered pathway to the castle doors, lost in thought. The left side of the oaken portal creaked open for Snape. He slipped inside and headed for his dungeon apartments. Dumbledore would know he'd returned and would either send a messenger for him or eventually interrupt whatever work Severus started.

It was in the middle of tea that Severus's Floo activated, causing the young Potions Master to sigh.

"Severus? Are you available for conversation?" the headmaster called affably.

"Yes, Headmaster. Here, or in your office?" Severus asked, tired.

"My office, if you don't mind?" and Severus knew it was less a request than an order. He stood, arranging his robes around his lean form, and strode to the fireplace. Taking a pinch of the ash concoction, he intoned "Headmaster's Office" throwing the ash into the fire. It turned a brilliant green, reminding Snape as always, of his Lily's eyes. The interschool Floo spun him out to Dumbledore's knick knack covered office.

"Ah hello, Severus! I had the house elves bring us some lovely lemon biscuits to go with our tea," Dumbledore welcomed him in, indicating the chairs before his desk for the other man to take his ease.

"So tell me," Dumbledore began, pouring tea into a pair of cups, "How did your outing go?" He got right to the point.

Internally, Snape snorted. 'Why did the old man bother with the chicanery?' he thought.

"It was, illuminating, Headmaster," Snape allowed, sipping his tea. He ignored the biscuits, in keeping with his persona, which supposedly disliked sweets.

"Do tell," Dumbledore prompted. And Snape told him of what he'd seen that day in Surrey. Dumbledore hmmed in appropriate places, but Severus could tell the man was only half listening. Until Severus explained that the intruders had taken the boy.

"What?" Dumbledore sat up straight, tea cup clattering to the desk top.

"That's what I said, Headmaster," Severus intoned silkily. He'd placed his tea cup back on the desk, half full, allowing him to steeple his fingers together over his mouth in thought.

"No, not possible. The wards," Dumbledore nearly whined, like a child denied dessert, or a firstie assigned detention.

"I could only detect the residual magic of some great, destructive force, Headmaster. No sign of any wards," Severus admitted. Dumbledore suddenly left his seat and strode to a nearby bookcase that held more magical trinkets than books. He prodded a few moving ones, frowning the entire time.

"Well, that complicates things. I'll have to cast some scrying spells immediately," the Headmaster mumbled, very distracted. He recalled Snape's presence quickly enough. "Thank you, Severus. I'm sure you have potions to get back to," he dismissed the Potions Master without another thought, turning back to the devices on the bookcase.

Severus left the Headmaster, not having much choice, and wandered down the halls.

Minerva McGonagall caught him staring at the case of school trophies, in particular one for the Charms Club, with Lily Evans' name on it from their 5th year.

"Severus?" she queried, the brogue she normally hid during the school year slipping free. She stood in the doorway of the room, watching him.

"What would you do, if suddenly faced with the fact that what you knew, was wrong?" Severus whispered, eyes misted over. The man nearly lost to memory.

"What on earth?" Minerva wondered aloud.

"The old fool has cross a line somewhere, Minerva. And I fear Lily's child has paid for it," Severus turned to look at the Deputy Headmistress, who was both his former teacher and current colleague.

"Severus, what happened?", Minerva demanded.

He swiped at his face tiredly, clearing his eyes, suddenly wishing an end to all the cloak and dagger. "Never mind, Deputy Headmistress. I find myself overwrought from my sojourn this morning, looking for potion ingredients. I believe I need to take some rest. If you'll excuse me?" Severus might be tired of the cloak and dagger, but was not in a position to escape it. Not now. Perhaps the hint he'd just dropped would ripple and create some havoc for Dumbledore.

Minerva nodded and let Severus go past her out into the hall to disappear down into the lower levels of the castle. She watched the 'unflappable bat' persona overtake him as he left, shoving everything else that was a bother, to the back of his mind as unimportant and unnecessary, and shook her head, thinking about what he'd said to her. And remembers a sad, triumphant night, 7 long years ago. She suddenly realized what Severus was aiming at with his comment and wanted to RUN and find Filius or Pomona. Minerva restrained the urge, and managed to continue her walk at the same, calm pace as before Severus dropped his little 'bomb' of information. As she approached her office, she called for an elf.

"Tafty?" and the old elf in a patched piece of Gryffindor curtain appeared beside her.

"Yes, Miss Minnie?" the old elf wondered, looking up at her. He's the only one allowed to get away with calling her that, in the entire castle.

She smiled fondly at the house elf. "Please convey my greetings to Professor Flitwick and inquire if he'd like to take dinner with me tonight?" she requested. The walk to her office gave her a moment to think, and Filius Flitwick was just the half goblin to help her.

"I do that right away, Miss Minnie," Tafty said, nodding twice before popping away to deliver her message.

Now, she needed to wait. She was good at that, stalking elusive prey in a habit long ago ingrained. She just hoped the boy could afford more delays.


	5. Chapter 5

3 Broken Hearts Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Mashing two worlds together, so maybe it's cooking class? I own nothing recognizable, all rights go to them what created those bits.

* * *

Brian met Tony and Bruce back at the Quinjet, hauling their gear with him. The pair of boxes had their own trolley wheels to make them easier to maneuver. Tony was arguing with the jet's pilots over the need to leave as soon as possible, while Bruce had the child in the small medbay on board the plane.

"Look, I don't care that there's still Agents on the ground here. They can stay, you'll be back for 'em before they know you're gone," Tony ranted in a rather level tone of voice. He didn't want to wake the boy, or upset Bruce into Hulking out again. He couldn't handle it, for one thing, and it certainly wouldn't help the situation any.

"Mr. Stark, our orders keep us on the ground while there are Agents in the field. Only the Director or Assistant Director can change that," the pilot stood firm on his orders. Until his phone chirped in his pocket, making Tony smirk. The pilot glared, fishing the device out to answer. "Agent Rohan," the pilot spoke into the receiver. "Yes sir, they are here at the jet. Sir? No sir, the Agents haven't returned. Estimates are six hours. Yes sir, that destination is easily reached. No sir, we wouldn't need to refuel before returning to New York. Right away sir." And the pilot hung up his phone. "All right Mr. Stark, load up. Wheels up in 10," Rohan coldly informed Tony, who just grinned. Tony knew JARVIS had contacted Coulson, who had called the pilot. Brian moved closer, catching Tony's attention.

"Oh good, Stripes, you're here. Let me get that gear loaded. You need a ride? Bruce will have told the pilot where we're going, so ask him if you wanna get there under your own power," Tony was rambling, a symptom of the stress he was fighting.

"I'll travel with you. We can discuss this entire matter along the way. I will however, need to contact my team. I need to tell them what's happened, and request the help of my partner. She is more connected to this planet's mystical forces and might be able to assist the boy," Brian offered. Tony considered it, while maneuvering the boxes aboard the Quinjet.

"Bruce?" he called up into the belly of the machine.

"I heard. We'll need someone knowledgeable, AND trustworthy in this magic to help Harry. Let's get strapped in before Agents Rohan and Merrilyn leave us behind," Bruce decided the matter. Tony waved Brian aboard, just as the engines turned over and fired up.

Brian and Tony had taken seats near the med bay, to be able to easily speak with Bruce while he monitored Harry's health. The boy was already hooked up to a portable heart monitor, as well as an IV. There were things Bruce couldn't do, so he prayed the flight remained smooth so the child wasn't jostled too much.

"All right, he's as stable as I can make him here," he said, settling in a jumpseat near the small bed that seemed to swallow the tiny boy in the middle of it. "Now, let's go over this magic theory of yours, Mr. Braddock. Maybe we can figure out why we had such an incredible spike in radiation," he continued, shifting his chocolate gaze to Tony and Brian across from him.

Brian leaned forward in his seat, pulling his cowl off and clasped his hands together, composing his thoughts before speaking. "Magic, in this case, is different than say, Dr. Stephen Strange, and Thor's. It is little studied, because those with the gift have resisted all overtures to let our men of science work with them."

"Wonder why," Bruce quietly muttered. Tony shot him a supportive glance, wishing he was seated beside his lover to be better able to give him support. He was the least fond of being considered a subject for intense study.

"Aye, no one wants to be a lab rat, not even to understand themselves better," Brian admitted, "Theirs is a separate world from ours, and at least here in Britain, the community remains behind the times. Reports from some claimed that the world refuses to leave the Victorian era. Others felt they lived in Edwardian times while they were immersed. Most of these folks call themselves 'muggleborn'. My partner has been working with a few over the years, trying to understand them more. Meggan will have more information for us." He didn't offer much with his explanation. In fact, it left Tony and Bruce with even more questions. Frustrated, they could only share a worried glance before taking up separate tasks for the rest of the flight.

Tony pulled out a tablet and proceeded to have a text conversation with JARVIS and Pepper about what has happened and where they expect to end up for the foreseeable future. Pepper is not happy, but Tony promises he'll remain available for business needs.

Bruce went over the last readings they had taken of the radiation in Surrey, sending email recommendations to the remaining Agents and the Hazmat clean up crew. He then emailed their contact at their hideaway, sending a detailed account of the boy's injuries and what he'd need to further stabilize and mend them. He also reported on who to expect in the next several hours.

Brian used a borrowed phone to call his team, and after, conferred with Meggan specifically to arrange her visit to the island off the coast of Scotland.

"This place we're headed to, what do you know of it?", he asked after he'd hung up. Bruce looked up from his tablet and saw that Tony was distracted with his own.

"It is Muir Island, part of the Kinross holdings. I've been working on a genomics project with Dr. Moira MacTaggert and Dr. Hank McCoy. The island is owned by Dr. MacTaggert. It's probably the safest place we can get to on such short notice," Bruce described.

"Dr. MacTaggert? I know her. She's done great work for mutant kind in Great Britain," Brian interrupted.

Bruce gave a small smile in response, "As well as the US. But we'll be utilizing mainly the privacy afforded by the island while we sort out what to do about young Harry. Tony?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Searching all available databases for any information I can find and putting together a dossier. We can brief the whole team when we get there," Tony was distracted by his work, but that was normal. Bruce was a little worried about how the billionaire would handle today's events. Neither of them had happy childhoods, but Tony at least, hadn't been abused like he had. But the lack of care showed in other ways.

"Good enough. Dr. MacTaggert should let you bring JARVIS aboard, if you promise not to pry," there was an amused light to Bruce's warm, brown eyes. He knew Tony couldn't resist poking about another mainframe. What Tony was truly promising was to do nothing with whatever information he found therein.

Tony looked up at Bruce, his features conveying the Puck Bruce adored. "Of course, Banner. JARVIS is the soul of discretion!"

Bruce snorted a laugh, "Better at it than his creator." Tony mock pouted at the physicist, who just grinned in response. Banter helped soothe the hurts to their souls.

They passed the rest of the trip in silence, each to their own work or thoughts. Arrival at Muir Island was quiet, as they'd easily beaten the rest of the Avengers as well as Braddock's teammate by a large margin. Dr. MacTaggert had a gurney ready to transfer the boy to her infirmary, and hustled Bruce with her to assist. An assistant, a young woman of about 20, with close cropped, red hair, and bright green eyes, wearing a crop top, jeans and a lab coat, led Tony and Brian to rooms where they'd stay until another house was made ready for them and their team.

She left them alone to get settled, needing to get back to her own work in the labs.


	6. Chapter 6

3 Broken Hearts Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable. Slow crawl out of the dark, but this one is less dark than others will be. Frank, graphic description of medical concerns. Also, not going to attempt an accent, I haven't 'heard' Moira MacTaggert's voice in a number of years, and I know damn well that a true Scottish accent is way different than whatever Cockney Hagrid spoke. I refuse to mangle it up.

* * *

Moira led Bruce to the infirmary, pulling the gurney along beside her. "Tell me what you have, Dr. Banner," she said, all business.

"Young boy, approximately 7 years old. Broken left arm, cracked ribs, sprained wrist and 3 broken fingers on the right. Mostly healed burns over both forearms, unknown origin. No signs of sexual abuse, but we need to check. Severely malnourished and very underweight," Bruce spelled out, in short, clipped sentences.

"All right. All easily treatable. Scanner's there, I'll get casting supplies," Moira told him, with a nod in the direction of the scanner, once they reached the infirmary.

Bruce grabbed the portable scanner, dragging it gurney side while quickly figuring out its use. He turned it on and oriented it over the prone form of the unconscious child. Pressing a few buttons, he let the scanner work while waiting for Moira to return with the plaster and bandages.

The scanner ran quietly over the prone body on the gurney, taking multiple images for study and records. Bruce saw the images appear, some looking like x-rays, others looking like CAT or MRI images, on a monitor hanging on a nearby wall. He walked over to the wall, and accessed the images from the beginning of the series. He sighed, seeing the signs from older bone breaks that managed to heal relatively straight. Well, no help for that, he'd just have to work on fixing what he could of the present injuries.

Moira returned from the supply closet, her hands full with a large basket of equipment. "Dr. Banner?" she queried, taking in his dejected posture.

"Bruce, please, Dr. MacTaggert. We'll be working together for awhile, I imagine. This has been going on for awhile. He's so young," he said, depressed. He didn't need to specify what 'this' was. Hulk was grumbling in the back of mind. If he wasn't exhausted already, he'd have a large, green problem on his and everyone elses' hands.

"Moira, then. Let's get his arm and fingers set and cast, and get a fresh bag of fluids going. Then we'll need to make sure Rahne* isn't using Mr. Stark as a chew toy," she returned, with a small attempt at humor that does bring a small smile to Bruce's face.

"He'd enjoy that, I think," he replied, a half smile briefly crossing his lips. He briefly considered their relationship and doesn't sigh out loud.

They both move back to the gurney, and together unwrap the splint holding the boy's left arm stable. Moira got a large bowl of water from a nearby sink, while Bruce made sure the broken ends of the forearm bones hadn't shifted during the flight. He held the arm stable while Moira wrapped soft felt up the length of the boy's arm from just above his elbow to his hand. Then she took a plaster roll of bandages and immersed them in the water before applying the roll over the felt. Bruce immersed new rolls as needed until they'd wrapped the entire arm three times. Moira made sure they boy would be able to move his fingers and thumb, and then trimmed any ragged edges. They propped the set limb on a plastic covered pillow to dry and harden, before they moved on to splinting the fingers together to let them heal*.

Moira went back to the sink to wash the plaster off her hands. Bruce cleaned up the remaining effluvia and asked where she kept the IV bags. Directed to a dispensary just two doors away, Bruce found what he needed, signed it out, and returned to the treatment room. He hooked the new bag onto the suspension pole before taking down the old one, and made sure the IV line was still in place and that there were no signs of burgeoning infection or allergic reaction.

"We need to start a chart," Bruce murmured, "And probably scan for radiation exposure."

"Half a step ahead of you. Here," Moira handed him a clipboard with a few sheets of paper trapped under the clamp. There's a pen in her other hand. "I will have to check and see if I have the necessary chemicals to run a urinalysis. Something we should do anyway, rule out anything internal."

"Thanks," Bruce replied, taking the pen and finding a chair to start the record. "That's a good idea. Tony's got a video we took at the site. We'll need to get it ready for the authorities," he explained.

"I'll contact Surrey Constabulary then. When should they come here for interviews?" Moira offered.

"As soon as we can get someone up here. Hell, offer them a ride, if the Avengers want to pick up a Constable," Bruce allowed. It was best to get it all done quickly. The better to get Harry on the road to healing, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Tony was in the room he'd been shown, on the phone with Pepper, trying to arrange an indefinite leave of absence, as well as getting more of his equipment over to the Island. The Avengers were already en route, so a Stark jet would have to bring anything he requested.

"Pep, listen! Everything will be fine. If we set up a remote link for JARVIS, I won't fall behind anything happening at home," he tells her again.

"Tony, just how are going to do that from a place that just doesn't seem to exist? Have you given me everything on this situation?" Pepper asked, voice thrumming with tension and confusion.

"Yes, I'm sure I can establish something. Hell, I'll send up a dedicated satellite. I've given you everything on this Pep," he winced, glad they weren't using the video option on the phones. "Bruce is here too. And if anything really needs my handsome face. I'll be back quicker than a news cycle repeats my top 10. You are more than capable of handling the board while I'm here, but we can use conference calls. Think I'd look good in that white Leia costume, with the bun hair?" he tried to assuage her concerns with his usual flippancy.

"Oh, I'm sure you'd be positively gorgeous, Tony," she sighed, knowing he wouldn't change his mind once it was set. "All right, send me the list of material and equipment, and I'll see it gets loaded on a Stark jet. Yes, it'll be one of the ones you can remotely fly, and board in transit! Don't interrupt! Does Bruce need anything?"

"I'm sure his latest projects wouldn't go unwanted. Other than that, I'll have him amend my list. Couple hours, Pep. Thanks!"

They completed the call and Tony flopped on the bed, letting out an explosive sigh. He was sure this adventure was going to keep them for several months.

There was a knock on the door, 10 minutes later.

"Tony?" it was Bruce.

"Come on in, Big Guy," Tony called, sitting up. Bruce pushed through the door, looking tired and stretched thin. Shadows around his eyes bespoke the stress he was under.

"You hanging in there Green Genes?" Tony quietly asked, giving him a once over.

"Somehow. We're not happy at the moment," Bruce offered a small smile that wasn't anywhere near as warm as usual. His eyes, Tony saw on close inspection, were hazel.

"C'mere, sit down before you fall," Tony waved his partner into the room. "I've got those shakes you love so much," he pointed at the cooler sitting innocuously on the desk. Bruce grimaced, but went to the cooler and plucked out 2 bottles.

"Oh, strawberry. Maybe that'll help. You talk to Pepper?" Bruce turned and sat in the chair at the desk. He popped the cap off one bottle and s tarted drinking. The shake quickly disappeared.

"Yeah, she's not happy," Tony shrugged, unconcerned, "But she's also waiting for a list of junk from us. So, put a wish list together."

Bruce made a noncommittal noise as he dropped the empty bottle on the desk and cracked the second. That one he drank more slowly.

"Dummy did a good job on these this time. They're almost palatable," Bruce said, halfway done with the second bottle.

"Be sure and tell him. I'm having the boys brought over," Tony answered, typing away on his Starkpad.

"Add my project notes, and accompanying equipment. Plus a list of books I'll add when you're done," Bruce added. Tony nodded.

Brian Braddock found himself alone and at loose ends. He was waiting for Meggan, but otherwise had nothing to do with his time. Rahne, the young woman who'd shown him his room, had left to finish her own work, and he knew Tony was talking to his people back in America. He sat at the desk, staring out across the field of clover, thinking of how best to help the Americans help this young boy.

Harry would sleep the rest of the day. The Avengers arrived around dinner time, bringing a Constable from Surrey Police. Meggan showed up in time for dessert. The briefing got underway, over coffee.

* * *

AN: * - Rahne, a mutant. Her name is pronounced "rain", according to the Marvel Wiki.

On the matter of an Inspector from Scotland Yard to handle the investigation – after some Googling, I've ascertained that yes, Scotland Yard is the London police, and that there is specifically a Surrey police force (separate entity).

* - I skipped a few steps describing how one sets a broken limb. This is in no way a substitute for professional medical advice. Same applies with the fingers.

* - and a tiny bit to broach the idea of radiation exposure.


	7. Chapter 7

3 Broken Hearts Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Building sand castles with other people's toys. Do not own, in any way, shape or form. Please don't sue for an overactive imagination! OMG! I am so sorry for the delay in getting this up. This was a hard chapter to write, research notwithstanding. I hope you enjoy this, and that it was worth the wait. Thanks for sticking with me thus far!

WARNINGS: Police procedural in this one. It's an interview. I wrote out several questions, and I'm not sure the whole situation won't be a trigger. Please, PLEASE proceed with caution if this kind of thing bothers you. We'll talk British things at the end.

* * *

The team sat around a well appointed living room, darkly colored in walnut and leather, with chrome accents. Rahne and Moira brought out a tea and coffee service for everyone to settle their dinner, before the meeting got underway.

The constable from Surrey sat a little a part from the reunited team, focused on her tea, and organizing her thoughts for the upcoming interviews she needed to perform. She had answered the Chief Inspector's call the day before, to respond to the unusual situation. CI Browne had informed Constable Erin Stephens that she'd have to do the investigation remotely, as the victim had been removed from the scene and transported to the fabled Muir Island by a group of superheroes. She'd been offered transport to this island, and been taken aback to discover she'd be flying with another cadre of heroes.

They had been welcoming, yet standoffish, knowing she couldn't be truly welcomed in their midst as anything more than an officer of the law with a job to do. They were "along for the ride" to support the rest of their team.

After downing the last of a bracing cup of tea, Constable Stephens elected to get started with her investigation. "Gentlemen, ladies, if we could start? I'd like to begin with Dr. Banner, all right?" she called over to the team, gathering her leather portfolio and standing. The team's laser focus centered on her, making her shift, a tad uncomfortable with the weight of six pairs of eyes staring her down.

Bruce put his tea cup down on the low table in front of the couch and stood to go with the constable.

"Dr. MacTaggert, do you have a room I might utilize?" the constable requested of her host.

"Certainly Constable," Moira stood as well, and led the pair off down a nearby hall to a small, unused office.

"Thank you, Doctor," Constable Stephens said, passing through the open portal. Bruce followed her in, closing the door behind him.

Upon hearing the click of the latch, Steve turned to Tony. "All right, explain what's going on, please," he requested. Tony refilled his coffee and settled in to report.

They settled around the desk, Stephens behind it, taking control of the interview. Bruce sat on the edge of his chair, and tried not to fidget.

"Sir, I am going to record this meeting, if that's all right?" Stephens asked, putting a mini-recorder on the black desktop. The portfolio was laid beside the recorder and opened, revealing a mix of typed pages, a pen, and a legal pad. Bruce agreed and the constable pressed down on the record button to start.

"Constable Erin Stephens interviewing," she looked to Bruce, a slim eyebrow raised in query.

"Dr. Robert Bruce Banner," he replied, using his full name. He spoke clearly for the recorder, without prompting, something the constable appreciated.

"For the purposes of looking into allegations of child abuse. Dr. Banner is NOT," Stephens is clear and emphatic, "a suspect in this matter. He is, in fact, a First Responder* to the incident in question. On May 8 of this year, Dr. Banner and a Tony Stark were called to the scene of an explosion in a Surrey neighborhood. Dr. Banner, would you please explain what you were doing there?"

Bruce leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, interlocked fingers under his chin and began to detail what he and Tony had encountered just hours previously.

He avoided the nit-picky details of the science of what they investigated, but detailed everything else in the way only someone with a keen eye for detail can. His cooperative effort with Hulk enabled a sort of memory share that allowed them to keep track of important things. It was like putting a movie reel up for each of them to watch, learning what the other had been up to, while fronting.

Stephens was impressed, listening to this American neatly give up information on the scene, blast pattern and radius, the other victims, and most important, where the boy was found and in what relative condition. She detected the burning rage he kept in check. The hazel of his eyes gleamed in the half light of the office, which she considered odd, as the available source wasn't in position in any way tas to give such an effect, making a short note of it on her legal pad.

An hour later, they were wrapping a discussion of his medical findings. He'd made specific mention of his undergraduate degree in medicine ebfore diving into that report.

"There are signs of older abuse, Constable. The initial scan showed calcification indicative of greenstick, segmental and a few closed fractures, mostly in the fingers. I intend to perform an MRI at the next available opportunity, but at this time, I'm not sure it can be done here. Depending upon a consult with a pediatric orthopaedist, I believe the child will recover with no significant handicap." Bruce explained the guarded prognosis that he and Dr. MacTaggert had come to.

"Good. Thank you Dr. Banner, that will be all. Are you remaining here?" Constable Stephens brought the interview to a close.

"Yes, we'll be here for the foreseeable future, barring those tests I mentioned. Would you like me to inform Mr. Stark it's his turn?" Bruce offered. She agreed and Bruce left the constable writing up some notes based on her observations from the interview. She stopped the recorder after he left, and changed out the tape, wanting a fresh one for each interview so that nothing happened to any of the discussions.

A few minutes later, Tony Stark came into the office.

"Ma'am," he said in greeting. He was smiling, but the expression was fading from his eyes.

"Mr. Stark, please, have a seat. By being here, you are consenting to an interview that is attempting to establish the facts of this allegation. Do you understand?" Stephens explained as the engineer made his way to the empty chair.

"Yes, I understand," Tony replied easily, bending to sit.

"All right, we'll begin. This will be recorded," she stated, pressing the record button on the mini-recorder. She repeated the opening lines from the previous interview, and allowed Tony to respond.

"Anthony Edward Stark," he gave his name, then launched into his own details of the Surrey incident.

As an engineer, and mechanic, his report was vastly different from the doctor's. He had more supposition as to the cause of the explosion, while avoiding too many technical details that weren't pertinent to the case. Stark mentioned things like the condition of the house, and the exact placement of the other victims. He talked about the conversation with the recovery team and the resultant effort to medically stabilize the boy at the center of it all.

Tony's interview was shorter, due to the fact he didn't have the background to comment on the boy's medical condition. Constable Stephens made careful notes on the interview and thanked him for his time. She asked him to request Dr. MacTaggert to come in next, and turned off the recorder to change the tape again. While waiting, she neatly labeled each cassette and put them back in their cases.

Moira MacTaggert could only add to Bruce's interview. Mentioning how the heroes acted when they arrived on the island, how Bruce dealt with the medical aspects.

Constable Stephens established the skill sets of each person so far involved, and confirmed reasonable, professional detachment. She made note that the heroes suspected there might be a survivor, since the uncle was missing. Her precinct* would have to do some hunting to find the man.

After interviewing all three adults, Stephens wanted to check on the victim. She requested both doctors' presence as she went from the office to the medical area, led by Dr. MacTaggert.

The young child was awake when they appeared in the door to the exam room. Bruce shouldered his way past the two women, gently bumping them aside with a quiet apology.

"Hello, Harry," he said, approaching the overly large appearing bed, "How are you feeling?"

Harry blinked wide, green eyes up at Bruce and shrugged.

Or tried to. He squeaked at the pain flooding over him, ribs aflame. Tears sprung up in his eyes, and dripped down his cheeks.

"Oh it's okay, I'm sorry," Bruce calmed him down, reassuring the boy he'd get pain relief momentarily. He rested his right hand on the railing of the bed, and Harry leaned against that rail, seeking solace. Bruce introduced the constable, "Harry, this is Constable Erin Stephens, and she's here..." he got no further.

"To take me back? M'uncle won't be happy," Harry said, his small voice full of fear. He leaned harder into Bruce's hand on the bed rail.

"No," he assured the boy, lightly touching him on the back, "She's not here to take you anywhere. But we do want to ask about your family, if you're okay with that?" Bruce kept his hands at his sides, hiding the syringe and staying nonthreatening. He had enough experience with children to know that they couldn't afford Harry reacting in fear or anger. He would have to wait until Constable Stephens had started to inject the required pain medication into the IV taped onto the back of Harry's hand.

Moira moved over to the in-room dispensary and prepared a syringe, then check the boy's vitals.

Stephens stayed at the door to the room, and waited for her opportunity to begin the interview.

"Hello young man," she began, keeping her voice light and level. "As Dr. Banner said, I'm Constable Stephens. Do you know what a constable is?" she asked, establishing his knowledge base. Harry looked all of 5, though both doctors had indicated the malnourishment that had stunted his growth.

Harry nodded, carefully, mindful of the pain he was in.

"I'm sorry, I need you to verbally answer everything. We need to record it so that others will know we talked, okay?" Stephens told Harry.

"Okay," was Harry's whispered response, his eyes downcast. Bruce rubbed the boy's back, lightly in support. Harry looked up and saw Bruce's small smile of encouragement. He responded with a tiny smile of his own, and looked back at his lap again.

"All right. Now," Stephens pulled out her mini-recorder, explaining, "I'm going to come in, and close the door so that it's just the four of us and no one else. Can I use that bit of counter there?" She moved into the room, and indicated a slightly lower piece of melamine. Harry checked with Bruce, the one safe adult he knew. Bruce smiled again, a little wider this time, giving Harry the bravery to agree to Stephens' approach.

Stephens smiled a bright smile and closed the door behind her.

"All right. With this being recorded, I have to mention a few things," she said, thumbing the recorder on before setting it on the counter and hooking her foot on the rolling stool so she could sit. And effectively put herself lower than Harry, a tactic to make him more comfortable.

She waited a beat, then spoke clearly, "Constable Erin Stephens interviewing minor child for case report AA-319. Doctors Robert Bruce Banner and Moira Kinross MacTaggert attending. Please state your name for the record," she pointed at Harry.

"Harry, ma'am," he whispered.

"Do you know your last name?" Stephens tried to keep a frown off her face.

"Um," Harry scrunched up his face in concentration, "S'not Dursley, that's Uncle, and Aunt, and Dudley. I think it's Potter," he said, after a moment.

"Okay, we'll be sure to check the records. Earlier, I asked if you knew what a constable was. Could you tell us?" Stephens continued.

"Yes ma'am. A constable is someone anyone can go to if they're in trouble," he recited, vaguely remembering a school assembly in the past term.

"Very good. Now, can you tell me a little about yourself? I would like to know what you do for fun," Stephens went on with the interview, establishing the rapport she needed to conduct a good interview with a minor.

The questions and answers flowed for the next 2 hours, with a brief break after the first hour. Moira handed Bruce the medication, letting him inject the pain meds in the first fifteen minutes, and gave Harry water to sip. Stephens stepped out of the room briefly with Moira to confirm the boy could continue.

When they couldn't continue any further, due to Harry's growing fatigue, Stephens put a stop to the questions, thanked everyone and led the way back to the lounge to give the team an update. Bruce stayed behind to make sure the boy was comfortable.

Harry had shifted to lean on Bruce's side as he became more tired and not a little distraught over the questioning. Uncle Vernon had been very demanding about Harry keeping silent, but the strong, unwavering bulwark of Bruce had him telling everything to the nice constable. He'd been afraid, was still fearful, but something about this man beside him made him feel so safe.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Bruce asked, helping him settle back down into bed, and brushing the rough ends of his raven hair off his forehead.

"Tired, Mr. Bruce," Harry sighed, blinking sleepily.

"Good. I'm going to let you get some sleep, and either Moira or I will be back to check on you in a few hours. There's a little call button wrapped on this railing," Bruce pointed to the red capped device, "Push that, if you need us before then." Harry nodded, and yawned.

Bruce smiled softly and held back from bussing the boy's forehead. The upsurge in protective emotion wasn't at all a shock to the physicist. He left Harry to fall asleep and rejoined the others.

Constable Stephens was explaining her next steps, when Bruce reached the entry to the living room.

"With the information Mr. Stark has been able to provide me, I can definitely identify the child as Harry Potter, late of #4 Privet Drive, Surrey. He was attending Guildford Grove Primary*. I'll be going there tomorrow to talk to his teachers," she told the team of superheroes. Bruce moved into the room, and sat beside Tony on one of the linen, sea foam green couches.

"Some of us had planned to go back and assist with clean up in Surrey," Capt. Rogers said, from his spot in a blood-red leather armchair.

"That's fine. I will also be directing teams to interview some of the neighbors," she continued, making more notes in her folio. "Dr. Banner needs to run some specific medical tests, so I'm unsure if he can remain here, or will need to travel to one of the hospitals inland. I'll put out a bulletin on the uncle. Other than that, my department will keep you updated."

Bruce asked, "If family can't be found, what will happen to him?" He spared a second to look at Tony, sitting beside him. Tony looked back, a quizzical look on his face. It was a quick thought, racing through his head like an atom in a super collider. He knew he'd have to discuss this with Tony, with the others.

"Most likely, he'll be made a ward of the court, and put into Social Service's care." Several team members stiffened at that news. Scowls appeared on the faces of Hawkeye, Black Widow and Dr. Banner. Stephens ignored them and went on, "If there's a place for him, he'll be fostered, maybe adopted." Hawkeye snorted, disbelieving that idea.

"Thank you for explaining. Clint, can you fly the constable back to London?" Bruce asked the archer, who visibly got a hold of himself and gave the physicist a faint smile.

"Whenever she's ready," he confirmed with a nod.

* * *

AN: First Responders – not really sure there are any in the UK, but I'm working under the assumption that someone with appropriate training can help in these situations. Bruce has a medical degree in this universe.

Precinct – Not sure the British system uses this term for defining their areas of police coverage. Which leads into how British this story is going to sound. Really? Not much. A British character is going to say British things (where I can find them) as applicable, and will express ideas from a British point of view. However, I'm an American, writing with largely American characters. It will read funny as we go on, I know.

Guildford Grove Primary – this is a complete guess and by gosh. I have no idea if this is the appropriate school for Harry to have gone to. Don't know if JKR ever mentioned a primary school Harry could have gone to (it's not listed on the HP-Lexicon, which I use for backup info). The neighborhood is completely made up.


	8. Chapter 8

3 Broken Hearts Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Not mine, either half. Please don't sue because I have an overactive imagination. Today's installment, how the other side is doing. This might be a thing, every 4th chapter being the magical POV.

* * *

Minerva welcomed Filius into the drawing room of her private quarters two hours after sending her invitation.

"Good evening, Filius. How was your day?" she asked the diminutive man as he smoothly moved through the Floo.

"Evening Minerva!" Filius said, stopping in front of her and dusting the last powder from his shoulders, "My day was quite relaxing for all we had that workshop earlier! I have finally finished my latest monograph on Charms. Unfortunately I am still forced to publish in Europe and the Americas." He shook his head, used to the disparagement that he suffered in the United Kingdom Wizarding World.

"Och, that's still a terrible shame. Ignorant wizards," Minerva growled, shaking her head at this year's old complaint. She showed Filius to an armchair. The chair came to life and lowered itself close to the ground to allow Filius to easily sit. He patted the arm in thanks as it straightened up.

"Tea? Or something stronger?" Minerva asked, sitting primly on the edge of the divan, and indicating with a wave of her hand, the service perched on the nearby ottoman. The carafe of tea steamed enticingly, but the crystal decanter gleamed, and attracted Filius' attention.

"How about a little tipple with our tea?" he compromised, pointing to the decanter. She smiled and poured a measure of amber liquor into a pair of large mugs before taking up the carafe and topping each drink off with Darjeeling. They sipped in quiet contemplation, small talk unnecessary between such old friends. After his first cup, Filius decided that ritual had been observed and asked his opening question.

"So, Minerva", he balanced his mug on the arm of the chair. "Not that I mind having dinner with a friend and colleague, but, what is the occasion?" he asked of the venerable Scotswoman.

"I have some interesting news," she began, setting her own mug down with a click.

Filius sat up a little straighter in his seat, curiosity piqued.

"I ran into Severus earlier, and we had the most interesting conversation. I would like to remind you of a time, 7 years ago, around Halloween," she hinted, a frown forming on her face as she recalled those dark days.

"Really now. That clears up a few things, but others..." Filius trailed off.

"Exactly. Would you terribly mind, I think I'd like to cast some privacy charms," Minerva reached for the wand tucked up her left sleeve.

"Of course! Whatever you need to be comfortable!" Filius waved off any concern. He had a feeling that things had quickly moved from friendly to grim.

Minerva nodded and drew her wand to cast those very specific spells. She put her wand away, and got down to brass tacks.

"Severus had an interview with the Headmaster today, apparently, something's happened to Harry Potter." She laid out what she knew, the Potters had been her Lions, but were beloved by all the teachers in their time.

"Wait, Albus secreted the young Potter somewhere in the Muggle world, and now the boy is in trouble?" Filius was shocked.

"Mhm, In fact, Albus put the boy with Lily's estranged sister."

"No! Lily was heartbroken after their last argument. Apparently the woman disavowed Lily, in front of everyone ta the harridan's wedding., or so she told me," Filius remembered, tapping a stubby index finger against his mouth. "What was Albus thinking?"

"Family. You know how important it is to him."

"There has to be another reason," he said, closing his eyes in thought.

"Could be a dozen, we'd never know. I want to find the boy. Do you think the goblins help us?"

"Perhaps. I will have to go to Gringotts and speak with my Clan Leader. If we can find out any more information prior to my leaving, it would be most helpful."

The fireplace flared green and immediately dimmed, subjected to the privacy spells Minerva had cast.

"What now?" she turned to the fireplace and dropped the ward on it.

The flames jumped high, emerald and forest by turns. A voice the pair of educators knew well echoed from the inner hearth.

"Minerva? Are you there?"

"Yes Albus, what can I do for you?" Minerva moved off her divan and resettled on the hearth stones.

"I need to speak with you, now, if you have a spare moment. About a small, lightning related project," Albus said.

The unsubtle reference to Harry's bolt shaped scar had Minerva and Filius rolling their eyes. Albus did love a good mystery, even if he couldn't pull one off to save his life.

"Just a moment, Albus, I need to get my wrap," she stalled for time. She and Filius needed some kind of plan.

"As soon as you can, Minerva," and the flames snuffed out.

"Damn him," Minerva growled, standing, feeling rushed.

"No, this is exactly what we need. Think you can convince Albus to give you any new information?" Filius asked, a gleam in his eyes as he considered this opportunity.

Minerva smiled, "Haven't had to do this since the Second World War. It would be nice to try again." She asked Filius to remain, calling on Tafty to make sure the Charms Professor would be comfortable while she was gone. He wished her luck and settled in his chair with a fresh mug of tea, and one of Minerva's copies of "Transfiguration Today".

Minerva entered Albus' office from the Floo, wrapped in a day robe of red and gold, and found him poking his wand into a small, silver bowl filled with water.

"Albus?" she stopped in front of his desk and watched.

"Shh, Minerva, I'm trying to divine where the Potter child might have been spirited off to," Albus said, slowly turning his wand counter clockwise within the bowl.

Minerva could see a few, small, dark strands of hair swirling within the water. She had an intense distaste for most divinatory arts, but a few were actual spells that anyone could cast. The one Albus was using was part of that category.

After ten minutes, Albus stopped and withdrew his wand with a simple tap against the side of the bowl to cover it. He sighed, settling back in his chair.

"Well, I had hoped that would work," he said, rubbing his eyes, tension bowing his shoulders.

"It takes powerful magic to block a Finder spell," Minerva began, half-heartedly trying to reassure him.

"There is nothing of our world that could do it, Minerva. I am afraid Severus was wrong, yet, I cannot bring myself to believe that," Albus said, slumping down in his seat, defeated for the moment.

"What did Severus see, Albus?" Minerva needed to know.

Albus explained everything the Potions Master had seen, describing the "Knight in red and gold armor" and the "Green skinned Troll" at the Dursley's. These descriptions were accurate, to a point, but wizards had no idea about superheroes.

"Albus, why didn't you let one of the Light families adopt him? Even a Neutral family?" Minerva asked when he was done.

"No. It could only be Blood that raised him. As close a relationship as possible. The wards wouldn't work any other way." Albus shook his head negatively.

"Blood Magic, Albus?" Minerva pretended horror, when she knew this was excellent news. Since the war with Grindelwald, Albus had studiously avoided any magic that wasn't the whitest possible, except in defense of the school. If he was capable of of using Blood Magic, there wouldn't be an issue, but Blood Magic had been deemed at best a Gray Magic, at worst, the Blackest. Most of the spells Voldemort had used in the Second Wizarding War were corrupted Light or Gray spells*. Albus could not have cast the required spells, leaving the Potter child unprotected except by the expedient that no pureblood would go looking for him in the Muggle world.

"The Lightest of spells, designed to protect and hide the boy from all who would harm him. Even well meaning 'fans'. I am not sure Severus has the ability to detect wards as he has intimated. We need to go to Surrey, Minerva, as soon as possible," Albus said, a new fire lighting in his eyes.

Minerva stared at him, and blinked, looking down at her lap with the motion. Her dressing robe covered lap. She'd thrown it on over her clothes to prove her delay in speaking with Filius.

"Albus, could it not wait until tomorrow? I haven't yet had dinner, and I had other plans tonight." She'd go, but had no way to warn Filius.

"Surely that presents no significant issue?," he teased lightly, "Come, we won't be gone long," Albus stood from his chair and beckoned to her.

"Allow me to send a message to Tafty, so he doesn't bring a tray at the usual time," Minerva said, drawing her wand and firing off a Patronus Messenger Spell. It was not headed to Tafty, but Filius, informing him of the continued delay and new chance for information. She didn't expect a reply, and moved away from the great, hardwood desk of the Headmaster. They approached the fireplace and Albus procured a hefty pinch of powder. He throws the powder into the hearth and called out "Leaky Cauldron!" in a stentorian voice. He stepped into the magically modified fireplace and quickly spun out of sight. Minerva followed after a few seconds, having Transfigured her wrap to a coat.

They emerged at the border crossing tavern, and barely took a moment to return the greetings of Tom the publican, before heading to the Muggle side door. Just in the alley, they paused.

"You remember where the house is?" Albus asked, calmly looking at his deputy.

"Of course," she scoffed, waving his concern off. She Apparated away. Albus blinked in surprise, and followed.

They reappeared in Surrey, just at the edge of the disturbed lawn. The sun was beginning to set, so they would not have much time to look around. Minerva gasped, catching sight of the wasted landscape and obliterated house.

"Good heavens!" she said, hand coming up to cover her mouth in shock.

"Well, Severus was certainly circumspect in his description. I don't think we'll find anything here. Perhaps Mrs. Figg has some insight," Albus commented, holding a hand out to indicate they should leave.

"I'll be along, Albus. I need just a moment," Minerva said, trying to buy some time.

"All right," Albus took her at her word. 'Poor dear must be overcome at the loss of such a fine family', he thought. "I'll see you there, then." And he Apparated away.

Minerva stood in front of the destroyed house, contemplating what her next move might be. She thought of the work she had done in the Second World War, and chose a few spells to discover the lingering presence of magic. She cast each one, working through the progression, trying to determine ward lines, protective spells, detection avoidance, and anything else that would show how hidden the Potter boy had truly been.

The information she recovered as a result of the spells gave her quite a shock, and made her very angry. She knew then that Dumbledore was only paying lip service to the idea of Blood Wards. She committed everything to memory before she joined Albus.

Prior to leaving for the old squib's house, she left a message behind, hoping it would get to whomever rescued Harry.

* * *

* - Magic in this universe. Without turning it into some long screed on the potentials of magic, let me say this much (and otherwise, you can go to my profile, and hit me up off site to continue the discussion): Magic is all about intent. Black, white, gray means NOTHING. It's what you want to do with it, that counts. And you'd better expect a reaction to snap back on you.

As for the spells, it seems there's an effort in fandom that the actual spells from Harry Potter are capitalized. I will make that effort, and even discuss schools of magic in capitals. I will probably miss a few. When one uses a word as an action, it's easy to forget to do a simple thing like capitalize. So, if I miss a few, don't kill me!

- Okay, issues of timing: All these chapters essentially take place over the course of the same day. I know, feels like it has been several. If I'd poured all this into one chapter, we'd have given up long ago! So, not this next chapter, but perhaps 10, will see us skip a few days.


	9. Chapter 9

3 Broken Hearts Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Do not own any recognizable products from JKR/Scholastic, and Disney-Marvel. I'm just playing in the collective sand box.

No specific warnings on this one, but it's a discussion on what to do with an orphan child. Please proceed accordingly.

* * *

After Moira led the constable and Bruce away, Steve sat up straighter and put his coffee cup down on the nearest table.

"Okay, let's talk about this. Tony, what happened?" he directed at the engineer.

Tony sighed, abandoning his own drink. He briefly wished for something much stronger. "A tragedy is what happened, but I'll tell you," he held up a hand to forestall any protests that he was trying to delay.

The team shifted in their seats, attention firmly on Tony as he regaled them with the events of the last 48 hours. Moira quietly slipped unnoticed into the sitting room. By the time he was done, and everyone was contemplating their next move, Bruce reappeared at the entryway.

"Tony, she wants you next," he prompted.

"Okay. I just got done telling the rest of them what's happened. It's time for Q&A," Tony replied, standing. He crossed the room, and took a moment to check on Bruce. "You okay?," he whispered, eyes conveying his concern.

"Yeah, getting there," he sighed, meeting Tony's gaze. The currently present level of green in those brown orbs would worry just about anyone who didn't know Bruce. Fortunately, the team was quite familiar, and knew there was little chance of the Hulk putting in an appearance.

"All right, okay. Just, if you need anything, come interrupt, or,"

"I know. Go on. Don't keep the constable waiting," Bruce touched Tony's shoulder, and got out of his way. Their team knew they were together, but the 3 newcomers didn't. They were forced to hide in plain sight, for a few days longer.

"I mean it, Banner," Tony whispered, going passed Bruce and down the hall. Bruce sighed once more, closing his eyes briefly before opening them and heading back to his teammates. He retook his place, and quietly thanked Moira, who handed him a fresh mug of tea.

"All right, questions?" Bruce asked, after draining half the steaming, black liquid in one go.

"What can we do now?" Steve asked, face stony and closed off.

"Well, we need to discover if he has any other family. That's primary. Um, not sure what will happen to Harry if he has none," Bruce looked at Moira for help.

"He would end up a ward of the court, and have to be put with foster parents," Moira explained, "or an orphanage if no one's available."

More than half the room flinched at this news, Bruce most of all. The cup and saucer in his left hand rattled as he began to shake, altering him into putting it down. He got out of his seat, and paced the room. None of the Americans* had good childhoods, certainly neither did at least one of the Brits.

"Look, that option isn't the greatest idea fir this room," Clint said, eyes shuttered, but intensely blue and deeply haunted.

"We'd have to petition the Crown to side step their procedures," Moira offered.

"Yes," Bruce growled, startling everyone with its intensity. Thor noted the increasing green present in the doctor's eyes and slowly enlarging muscle mass. "My friend, please calm yourself. We will not let the boy go, I promise you," he entreated, tensing.

Bruce shook his head, a little wild. Thor stood then, and pulled the other man to his feat only to guide him to a quiet corner and begin whispering in his ear.

"Will he be all right?" the fey woman, introduced as Meggan, asked, concern marring her sculptured features.

"Hope so," Clint murmured, mentally taking stock of the quiver left at his feet, counting how many tranquilizers he had and praying it would be enough. They all knew Bruce, and especially the Hulk, had a soft spot for children.

"Dr. MacTaggert, we'll need to know everything about this process," Natasha spoke into the silence.

"Of course. I'll ask Rahne to get started," Moira answered, with a nod.

"What, specifically, can the team do?" Clint asked.

Steve said, "Well, it'd be nice if we went to Surrey and assisted with the clean up." The others nodded.

Thor had managed to calm Bruce, and they rejoined the others. Bruce took a new seat on the green couch that had previously held Thor.

"Sorry, I'm better now. I think we'd like to try adopting the boy. Not sure Hulk will be all that calm if we don't," he spoke, voice holding an echo, reminding everyone that Hulk was still present, as he settled back against the linen couch. His hands came together and fidgeted, twisting together. It was a nervous tell his team knew well. They were beginning to hope that Tony reappeared soon.

Tony did walk back into the room, crossing immediately to Bruce, as if magnetically drawn. "If that's what you want?" He reached out to touch Bruce's cheek. They stared at each other, the 3 of them, letting the world fall away as they shared a secret and a promise.

"Yes," that growl was there still, underlying his usual tenor.

"Then that's the plan." And Bruce smiled for the first time in 24 hours.

Moira went back to the office to answer the constable's questions, leaving the Avengers with the two British heroes. Meggan looked around the room, taking the measure of each person. Each time she meets a pair of eyes, they feel weighed, and oddly, not left wanting.

"What you did," she began, "has started to adjust a balance horribly tilted towards darkness."

"Oh no, mystical mumbo jumbo time," Tony grumped, frowning from beside Bruce on the couch. Bruce reached over and pinched his side. "Ow, what?" Tony glared at him. Bruce frowned, but didn't answer. "Oh fine, I'm sorry," he directed at Meggan.

She smiled, and continued, "It does seem incredible. But what you are dealing with is magic, and that is a completely different field of play. Magic does not follow your rules of science, it follows the natural world."

Tony opened his mouth to speak, and Bruce grabbed his elbow. The glare those virulent green eyes cast in his direction made him settle for frowning at his hands. A hint of laughter appeared in both Meggan's eyes, and Thor's. Thor appreciated this lesson for Tony, who adamantly despised magic in all forms. Especially since Loki and Amora both loved to tease the team at various intervals.

"I am aware of how that sounds, Mr. Stark," Meggan allowed, standing up to pace. Her long, blonde hair floated behind her like a golden cloud. "Magic permeates the world we live in, affecting everything and everyone. In this case," she pointed a slim index finger towards the floor, "We have a magic user, untrained in the arts, and sorely abused. He is the lynch pin to a world that teeters on the brink of destruction."

"Oh great, saving the world again," Clint snarked from his seat, under Natasha.

"Kind of the thing we do, dear, the 9 to 5 isn't for us," she reminded him playfully. He grinned up at her, fingers gently tickling her sides. She gave him a soft smile, and turned back to the others. "You know, Coulson would probably be a great help with this," she told them.

"When is he back from Geneva?" Tony asked.

"Next week, I think," Clint answered, hands now still on Natasha's hips.

"If you can, get him a message to reroute to Edinburgh. We'll get him from there," Tony suggested. Clint nodded. "I spoke with Pepper earlier, and a company jet is on its way with equipment and other items so that Bruce and I can stay here, and take care of Harry. We're both still available for missions, though I think," Tony turned to check with Bruce, who gave an encouraging nod, "that where and when possible, we not be called together. I still have SI responsibilities, and pending any final arrangements, Bruce has as much of his work coming as could be moved."

"We'll do our best to hold to that," Steve promised. They had to be satisfied with that much.

Tony nodded, accepting Steve's word. They would indeed do their best.

Meggan took up her story again. "These magic users are a private people. It has been extremely difficult to speak with them about their lives and talents. I know this much, 10 years ago Great Britain was under attack from a blood supremacist and his band of "Death Eaters". I will get to that," she held up a hand to forestall questions. "These so called 'pure bloods' rampaged across the country, killing 'halfbloods', and 'nobloods' According to some, it was a dark and evil time. The supremacist was eventually killed, and there has been an uneasy peace since then. Oddly, the person responsible for ending this reign of terror, is that boy in the infirmary."

"But he would have been a baby, at best!" Bruce said, incredulous. There was no way a little baby could be responsible for killing a fully grown and trained man. Was there? What was so special about that little boy currently down the hall?

"That is the miracle of the whole event," Meggan shrugged. "I can get no more details than that. I am hoping now that young Mr. Potter has been found, and will be better cared for, the balance will shift again. But beware that those responsible for his present state will seek to take control of him again. Their original influence wanes, and it is a situation they cannot tolerate. So I ask you to take care with whom you trust," she finished, just as Moira rejoined them.

"Bruce, Constable Stephens would like to talk to Harry. We should be there," she said into the quiet. Moira stood just inside the entryway, and had caught the end of Meggan's speech.

Bruce nodded and made to stand, giving Tony a reassuring squeeze on the arm as he moved.

"You'll be okay?" Tony quietly asked, concern briefly marring his handsome face. Bruce could be irritated that he kept asking, but he knew that it was important that someone keep him grounded.

"Yeah, we'll talk soon," Bruce promised as he passed.

Tony hoped for the best as his lover walked back down the hall away from his immediate support. Moira gave the group a gentle smile of reassurance before she turned to follow.

"What of the Hulk? How will Dr Banner managed his berserker half while caring for a child?" Thor asked, broaching a subject on most of the team's minds.

Tony sighed, shifting in his place. "I'm sure he'll handle it the way he's been handling it. The work we've been doing for and with the Hulk has helped. It will continue. You know how they are about injured kids. Hell, kids in general. I'm not about to ask either to remove themselves from this." Tony tried not to get angry. He knew that the team would express concern about the Hulk. He hated it, but expected it. Most of the time, Hulk was something of a loose cannon. Only recently, since he and Bruce had been together, had Hulk stabilized and come to actually understand things around him.

"Sorry Tony, we have read the reports detailing your exercises with the Hulk," Steve tried to make peace.

"Make it sound like he's a trained animal," Tony groused, lips curled into a sneer.

"Of course not!" Steve responded hotly.

"Gentlemen, sheath your claws," Natasha interjected, "You'll just make it worse." Steve closed his mouth, lips thinning, on his next argument.

Tony blew out a breath, grumbling. But he too, remained silent.

"My apologies. If it is necessary, I would stay so the Hulk has a sparring partner. It may make things easier for the doctor," Thor said, a frown on his patrician features. He felt a little guilty over driving a wedge between his brothers.

Moira and Bruce returned two hours later, with the constable. There was a brief discussion with the officer on their next steps. It confirmed what they had discussed with Moira.

Constable Stephens admitted that she'd get help from the rest of her jurisdiction on finding out more about Harry's past.

Tony asked Clint to fly the constable back to Surrey, and the archer agreed, waiting on the constable's pleasure.

When she was ready, the two departed, Natasha going along as co-pilot.

"Bruce, let's go have that talk," Tony started without preamble.

"All right, Tony. Just a moment," he turned to Moira, "You have space for all of us?" The question asked more than if there was enough beds. He also wanted to know if she had the resources to host them.

"Yes, Bruce. Everything will be fine. Mr. Stark,"

"Tony" that one interrupted. They'd be spending a lot of time together to continue formality.

Moira smiled, accepting his request, "Moira then, please. Tony, offered to be responsible for things like food and other consumables. There's a separate house that my assistants are readying, but it won't be available until tomorrow. Until then, there's space for all of you, even the pair that left. You'll have to share in a few cases." She left the last statement hanging, knowing they'd figure that out amongst themselves. Brian and Meggan claimed his room, and Steve and Thor another, until Tony announced he'd host Bruce.

"It'll be a science sleepover, no biggie," his offhand statement prompted curious looks from the British heroes, while Steve, Thor, and Moira* just nodded, knowing looks on their faces.

"Just have to get Jolly Green's bag out of that room. Then Cap and Point Break can have that. If the spy twins return tonight, they can have what's left." And Tony tugged Bruce on the arm, heading down a different hall back to the bedrooms.

* * *

* - for the purposes of this story, at this moment, Natasha is assumed to be American. When she wishes, the Russian accent is gone. It will come into play later.

* - Moira doesn't specifically know that Tony and Bruce are together, just accepting "oh, two guys are going to share, okay".


End file.
